Photographs
by LovinFace
Summary: Starsky's mom goes through her photo album and reminisces.


Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, but if I did…well, let's just say you'd all be invited to the party.  
Feedback: I would love to hear from you.

Photographs  
By LovinFace

Rachel Starsky awoke with an uneasy feeling. She went to the kitchen and started the coffee before going into the living room. Scanning the bookshelf, she spotted the tattered photo album and pulled it from its perch. She carried the album to her favorite rocking chair and sat down, hugging the book to her chest and smelling the old leather. Slowly she opened it to the first page.

There staring back at her was her firstborn as a baby, too thin, too pale, but blue eyes sparkling…even though the picture was black and white. David Michael Starsky had come into this world fighting for his life, and had been a survivor ever since. Rachel and her husband Michael had been so excited about their first baby, hopefully the first of many. The pregnancy had been complicated, though, and in the end David had been born prematurely and the doctors had not given Rachel and Michael much hope. But David was a fighter, and each day he grew stronger and stronger until he was finally able to go home.

Turning the page, Rachel found a picture of David at three, peanut butter smeared all over his hands and face, in his hair, and on the piano. She remembered the day vividly. She was hanging the clothes outside and when she returned she had found her curly-haired son smearing peanut butter all over the piano keys.

"Davey, what are you doing?" she had asked.

"I paint." He offered her a peanut butter smeared smile. "You help."

Rachel had to stifle a laugh. After all, she couldn't let her son think this was acceptable behavior. It had taken her hours to clean the piano, and she swore that the scent of peanut butter still permeated the instrument to this day.

Rachel continued to peruse the photo album. She stopped when she reached a picture of David at the age of five. Michael was holding David in one arm and his other arm was stretched around Rachel's shoulders. She had just found out the day before that she was pregnant again, and had informed David that he would have a little brother or sister in a few months. He had scrunched up his face and announced firmly, "I don't want no sister. I don't like girls."

Rachel had explained to him that it wasn't up to David to decide if it was a boy or a girl, that only God could do that. So David had promptly grabbed his mother's hand and walked out to the front porch. "Hold me up," he implored.

Rachel did as requested and was surprised when David shouted at the top of his lungs, "God, I wanna brother, not some old sister!" He had paused for just a second and then added "Please."

He struggled out of his mother's grasp and headed back inside, Rachel following behind.

"Davey, why did you just do that?" she had asked.

David looked at her very seriously. "Well, the closer you are to God the better he hears you. So I got closer. I don't want no sister. All they do is play with dolls."

Rachel continued to leaf through the pages, watching David grow before her eyes. David and Nicky playing ball. Birthday parties. Hanukahs. David's bar mitzvah. Pictures past the age of 14 were few. She had sent David to live with her sister Rose in Bay City after his father was killed. He had started running with the wrong crowd, withdrawing from Rachel, and when he was threatened with detention after yet another break-in, she decided he needed a change of scenery. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. But she truly believed it saved his life.

More pages, more pictures. David at the age of 19 in Vietnam, arms wrapped around his buddies, cigarette dangling from his lips. His hair was cut short, but she could still make out some defiant curls here and there. She frowned, knowing that the two young men flanking her son in the picture never made it home. A part of David -- his innocence, the feeling of immortality of youth -- never made it home either. Yet he maintained his hope for a better world, despite seeing death and destruction, and still believed he could make a difference.

She had made her way towards the back of the album. David at the police academy graduation, arm draped around Ken Hutchinson, his best friend. A picture of David and Ken after they had been made partners, each with a beer mug in his hand, toasting each other. Then another picture, David with beer being poured over his head and Ken laughing so hard he had had tears in his eyes. She couldn't help but smile when she found the picture of David's car. A Torino…or tomato, depending on if you asked David or Ken.

A snapshot of David and Terry, taken by Ken. Rachel had never met Terry, but the way David had talked about her….she wondered if David would ever really allow himself to love that deeply again. She no longer mentioned marriage and grandchildren to David, even in jest. She knew too well that kind of grief never really goes away; it just burrows in your heart. And while she hoped David would allow himself to love again, she would understand if he didn't. She herself had never found a love like she had with Michael.

There were other pictures tossed haphazardly between the pages of the album. A sunset over the ocean David had taken with his new camera. A picture of Ken the day he had finally had his cast removed, propped up on crutches, standing next to a car that had definitely seen better days. A snapshot of David, Ken, and Huggy at The Pits…David had taken the picture, holding the camera out as far as he could.

And on the last page, one of her favorite pictures of David…Ken had taken it without David's knowledge. He was standing barefooted on the beach wearing jean cutoffs and had his hands stuffed in his pockets. The wind was playing with his curls. He was staring at the sun as it kissed the sea, and there was a look of tranquility in his face that made Rachel just want to stroke his cheek and tell him how much she loved him.

Rachel closed the album and returned it to the shelf. She went to the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and began her day. The uneasy feeling wouldn't go away, though, and by the afternoon she decided she would call David and just make sure he was okay. She was never sure of his schedule and there was the time difference to be considered as well. She called his apartment first. No answer. She looked through her pad of numbers and dialed the station. She was surprised when Captain Dobey answered the phone.

She asked about her son, and was told that he was fine. In fact, Captain Dobey had just caught David and Ken playing ping-pong on the desks in the office not five minutes ago. Rachel thanked the captain, and breathed a sigh of relief as she hung up the phone.


End file.
